Let it rain

We’re enjoying a topsy-turvy summer here in eastern Washington.  While the rest of the country bakes under an unrelenting heat wave, we’re dodging thunderstorms.  In just the last week and a half, we’ve been snapped and drenched by three, maybe four storms, the kind that split the sky shooting skeletor-like bolts of electricity.  It’s very entertaining.  

People stand outside on their driveways gaping.  It’s like we’ve never seen rain before.

Normally we get somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 inches of precipitation here.  Total.   Per year.  That’s not a lot of water, but we like it that way.  Our arid climate and sandy soils are perfect for wine grapes, forcing the thirsty vines to probe deeper and deeper through the rocks and substrata for a little sustenance.  It helps make them strong, and does wonderful things to the grapes as they ripen. 

So the occasional rainstorm is a fun diversion.  One lovely storm blew through Walla Walla a few weeks ago during a barn dinner at Glencorrie Winery.   The tasting room fills the front half of a former equestrian barn, situated at the base of some rolling hills just outside Walla Walla.   They like to serve wine club dinners in the long, narrow space between the tasting room and the former horse stalls.  

The night we joined them, dinner included grilled sausages, tasty short ribs, a beautiful salad colored with fresh berries, and the delicious baguettes winemaker Ronn Coldiron loves to bake for his wine club members.  (If you catch him when he’s in town, he’d be happy to teach you his technique.)  

Dinner started with soft breezes drifting through the open ends of the barn and the sun growing softer as it set.  Then the rains came.  The lightening crackled.  The thunder boomed.  The lights went out. 

After a few minutes, the storm settled into a quiet rain, giving the wine barrels and the grassy hills a soft glow, and sparking a gorgeous double rainbow.  Some of us ran outside to take pictures of it. 

The horses on the hill behind us just kept on grazing. 

So did most of the people. I guess not everyone gets gaga about a little rain.  

Glencorrie Winery

Walla Walla

 Founded by a pair of Californians looking for a spot in Washington that embodied their ideal wine – complex yet “food-friendly” and balanced.  Ronn and Dean Coldiron source their grapes from some outstanding vineyards, including Wienbau, Stillwater Creek and Windrow Vineyards.  Wines trend toward high alcohol (14.6% and above), with tasting notes that emphasize cocoa, black fruits, mint and rhubarb.

Notable  – Cuvee Marquis, a Bordeaux-style blend of Columbia Valley grapes. A rich, clean mouth with layers of flavors and balanced tannins.

Update

Lulu B. lives. 

Well, not really. She’s just a line drawing on a wine label.  But the mother, so to speak, of Lulu B. actually answered my email a few weeks ago.  Karen Anne Maley is a savvy marketing wiz who works for a company called Kruger Wine and Spirits, and she’s pretty much the brains behind the label.

This is not the same thing as being the brains inside the bottle.  As a rule, those creds go to winemakers.  But it takes a certain pizzazz to get a winemaker’s labors into the mouths of the public, and Ms. Maley has plenty of pizzazz to share.

When her company acquired Lulu B. wine it was marketed the traditional way – to men.  This bored Ms. Maley. But she liked the name.  So, handed a product with such an enticing moniker, she went right to work.

“More than 65 percent of the people who buy wine priced below $10 are women,” she said.  “And when are women usually drinking wine?  With their girlfriends.”

Maley launched a complete marketing redesign, and came up with the curvy, friendly young woman on the label.  “I usually don’t like it when wine companies try to market to me,” she said. (Neither do I.)  “The graphics always show a 25-year-old, skinny, hipless woman who looks like she works for Ad Age in San Francisco or New York.” (Oooh, I hate that.  Even though I don’t regularly read Ad Age.)

The new Lulu scored crazy high on likeability tests, and the bottles flew off the shelf.  Score one for the curvy girl!  In fact, the brand is so girlishly likeable, Kruger is launching a line of Lulu B. cocktails, a collection of fanciful, low-cal treats like margaritas and chocolate martinis.  These are not exactly my cup of tea.  When it comes to cocktails, I say go big or go home.  A martini is supposed to be the hard-core heavy-duty boozy choice of people like James Bond.  Low-cal should not be an option.

However, not everyone is a Bond.  James Bond.  There are lots of Mary Goodnights and Pussy Galores out there, too, who will enjoy an occasional chocolate martini, or a nice glass of red wine.  Read the label.  Lulu B. “pairs well with girlfriends.”  Amen.

Sellin' it, baby
I am at the heart of a marketing maelstrom.   I am prescient.  I am wise beyond reason.  I can, simply by slapping an adorable nickname on a child, define the full fruit and body, indeed the character, of a wine.  Of an entire marketing campaign supporting the heart and soul of a wine-making organization.

I am a branding phenom. Check it out:

This is a picture of my three daughters.  Just kidding.  Obviously, it’s a picture of three bottles of wine, and my daughters, lovely, charming, intelligent young women that they are, are not inside them. Or are they?

It starts with Cupcake Vineyards. Actually, it starts with Princess Cupcake.

That’s the nickname I gave my first-born little princess when she was just weeks old.  She was an adorable child. 

Now she’s an adorable adult, and she still answers to Cupcake. Sometimes.  But never in public.  When she finished graduate school a few years ago and moved to Chicago, my sister gave her a housewarming present of a case of Cupcake Vineyards Cabernet, a cute and thoughtful gift designed to remind her of home and all the people who love her enough to call her Cupcake.

At about the same time, my favorite wine vender made space on her shelves for a made-for-the-masses line of wines called Middle Sister.  The clever label immediately caught my eye.  I am not a middle sister.  I am one of six sisters, but I landed in the top half of the pack. I grew up being called one of the Big Kids, a much more favorable role than Little Kid.  But I have had a life time of dealing with middle sisters, and let me tell you, sister, they are a complicated bunch.

This is the middle sister in our house.  She resembles the Middle Sister wine labels featuring cute illustrations of snappy young women embodying personality types like Rebel Red, Wicked White, Drama Queen, Goodie Two Shoes, and Surfer Chick, all of whom are presumably middle sisters.

When I saw these labels I thought about buying a bottle for my middle daughter, then thought about how that would only fuel the fire of her middle-sister angst, then thought about how cute the Middle Sister labels are, then thought about how cute my middle daughter is, and then my mother, who is herself a middle sister, bought her a bottle of Middle Sister Rebel Red.

Even though she’s not a rebel, per se.  She’s cute, feisty, energetic, creative, and fun.  Not a rebel.
This is complicated, isn't it?  But it doesn’t yet add up to a marketing maelstrom.

Enter Lulu B.  When I first saw this label, my jaw dropped to the floor.

 How! Did! They! Know????

This is my youngest daughter.  We call her Lulu (that’s a nickname, not her real name).  We also call her Lala, but for today’s purposes we’ll stick with Lulu. 

She’s a delightful young woman, vibrant, intelligent, strong-willed, kind, a recent college graduate (WSU biochem – I'm so proud of you, Lulu!) and my third addition to the wonderful world of wine marketing. 

This is Lulu B., the sassy young woman who is the face of Lulu B. wines.  She’s lunching in Paris, perhaps.  Her travel bag hints at her search for the finest varietals from France, Italy, Spain, California.  Lulu B. is very mysterious. I do not know how she came to be, or which marketing genius gave birth to her. All references to her whereabouts on her website lead to cryptic comments from Lulu B. herself. “When life gets a little crazy, Lulu B. understands you need a little ‘Girlfriend Therapy’ time,”she says at About Us.   “I want to hear your ideas, thoughts and suggestions,” she chirps at Contact Us.  “Please send me an email  and I’ll do my best to back to you as soon as possible.”

I'll get back to you when I find out who she is.  In the meantime, if you need help naming your next wine, give me a call.

Notables

Here at Vinotable, we like good wine. We also like good food. Quite often, we like to enjoy them together. There are many people just like us. Perhaps you are one?

Whether it’s a full-blown seven-course winemaker’s dinner or a pannini/pinot pairing on the patio, some of our most enjoyable dining experiences are at wineries, so we’re launching a new feature. On a semi-regular basis, we will highlight an interesting food/wine pairing from a winery dinner or other culinary event.

First up:

Braised Oxtail Shepherd’s Pie with Januik Winery Merlot

The Winery:
Januik Winery, Woodinville, Washington

• Launched in 1999 by Mike Januik after 10 years as head winemaker for Chateau Ste. Michelle
• Named one of the world’s ten “Masters of Merlot” by Wine Enthusiast Magazine
• Named one of the top wineries of 2011 by Wine &Spirits Magazine

The Chef:
Megan Hartz

• 2004 graduate of Seattle Art Institute’s Culinary Arts Program
• Formerly chef at The Ruins, Seattle’s famed private dining club
• Currently leading the culinary program at Januik Winery
• Creates seven-course Harvest Dinners in the fall and spring, featuring fresh local foods paired with Januik Winery’s finest wines
• Also serves Sunday Suppers at the winery, informal seasonal meals served family-style, with wine tasting preceding dinner

The Pairing:

“Hmm, that’s really tough,” mused Hartz, “but I’d have to go with braised oxtail and a Januik Merlot we served at a Harvest Dinner. I don’t even remember the year, but any vintage would work. Mike makes some of the best Merlots in Washington.”

The Recipe:

“I don’t really work from recipes. Mike had picked a big Merlot from the cellar, so I knew I had to create a dish that would keep up with it. My husband and I had just returned from Barcelona, where we ate a dish similar to this, and it was fabulous. I served it like a shepherd’s pie – braised oxtail, layered with roasted parsnips and onions, and covered with Yukon Gold potatoes. A very rich dish for a great Merlot.”

Oil &Vinegar

I love pre-dinner munching. Although they rarely get a headline role, hors d’oeurves are often some of the most creative parts of a menu. Darling little triangles of spanokopita, juicy bacon-wrapped figs, light and savory cheese soufflés. These make a gorgeous array of goodies.

These are also the most satisfying of the frozen hors d’oeurves offered over the holidays at Costco. I learned a long time ago to say “YES” when someone offers to bring something to dinner, even when that someone is a giant marketing behemoth. If Costco wants to go to all the trouble to make complicated and fussy bites of deliciousness, why would I say no?

But I also learned a long time ago that simplicity delights. I love chunks of warm, crispy baguette dipped in a plate of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The sweetness of the vinegar, the tang of the oil – everything you need, all in one bite.

So I was delighted last week when I stumbled into a little store called Oil & Vinegar. The shop is chock-full of culinary gifts like herbs, mustards, fondue chocolates, flavored pastas, as well as the usual fun array of kitchen gadgets and serving pieces. But what sets it apart is the secret so cleverly hidden in the store’s name.

Oils! And vinegars!

Oil & Vinegar offers a wide array of oils from around the world – olive oils from Tuscany, Morocco, Greece, Spain, France, South Africa; blood orange extra virgin olive oil, bonsecco extra virgin olive oil, oils with basil, truffles, lemon; even a delicious tangy grapeseed oil from a supplier right here in Washington.

The vinegars are just as varied – strawberry balsam, elderflower apple lime, cassis orange, fig balsam. The list is endlessly creative. A table full of samples in the middle of the store allows you to mix and match flavors hitting all corners of your tastebuds. It’s all dispensed from luminous amphoras mounted on a wall spanning the width of the store. You can buy one of the cute containers they sell, and have them fill it with the oils or vinegars of your choice. Or you can bring in your own bottle. Very alluring.

But guess what came home with me? Chocolate balsamic vinegar. Not pomegranate balsam vinegar, not passion fruit balsam, not date balsam crème. Chocolate. It was an amazing taste discovery. By itself it is delicious – a murky cocoa flavor swimming in the intense wine-dark sea of vinegar. Ok, maybe not quite that epic, but it was darn good. The flavor really sang, however, when the staff at Oil & Vinegar handed me a sample of chocolate balsamic vinegar mixed with grapeseed oil. It had a bright, spring-like fruitiness, a sunnier flavor than olive oil, and the cocoa tones blended quietly into the happy combination.

This little shop happens to be in Spokane, a two-and-a-half-hour drive from my home, so I won’t be popping in on the spur of the moment. But I will be back. Oil & Vinegar is a franchise business that originated in the Netherlands. It hasn’t made very deep inroads into the US yet – there are only nine stores here right now – although it’s such a fun concept I imagine we’ll be seeing more soon. Fortunately, they offer some of their more popular items online at http://www.oilandvinegarusa.com/. Worth a visit.

The other side of the world

Nothing lends itself to artful depictions more than a vineyard. Rolling hills, gentle green canopies, plump grapes – magnificent. I love pictures of vineyards and their surrounding environments. In Eastern Washington, we live in the midst of some breathtaking vistas.

But getting out of your comfort zone every once in awhile can lead to whole new outlooks. So I went to Africa. My husband, his brother and our sister-in-law just finished an up-and-down, all-around trip to South Africa and Mozambique. We were visiting a few of our kids – my daughter and nephew – who are adventurous souls, devoting a good chunk of their youth to working with other cultures in a far corner of the world. The Peace Corps brought them both to Africa. Cathy lives in a Zulu village, working with the women and youth there.

 Marty is in Mozambique, leading a massive effort to replant Mount Gorongosa, a wildy rich and diverse ecosystem that has been stripped by poachers and loggers. They have big jobs with huge challenges, and enough optimism and energy to accomplish great things.

And they brought us to South Africa. This is a big country, encompassing vast deserts, towering mountains and a long and beautiful coastline fingering through two different oceans. The Atlantic and the Indian Oceans flow into each other at the Cape of Good Hope, producing cooling breezes that bathe the vineyards and olive orchards spilling down the granite and sandstone slopes at the base of the mountains.

This is one gorgeous piece of the world.

With some gorgeous vineyards

And some gorgeous wines. Here’s the thing about touring a new wine region – I never feel as if I found the best of the best. We had only one day in the Stellenbosch and Paarl regions, and we stopped at only four or five wineries. We had some great wines, some so-so bottles, and at least one that was downright bad.

But we tasted enough intriguing wines in the midst of some of the world’s most beautiful vineyards to make it a memorable day. Our tour included the largest corporate-style wine cooperative in the country,

along with several privately owned, albeit commercially oriented, wineries.

What we missed were the small producers, the hands-on artisan winemakers, the likes of which make up the vast majority of Washington’s 700-plus wineries. South Africa’s industry is centuries older than the New World’s, so the mom-n-pop wineries aren’t so prevalent, but there are certain truths that persist no matter where you make your wine. Number one – you need a great product. And Number two, a marketing twist doesn’t hurt.

Take Fairview. This farm, in the Paarl region, has a long and colorful history dating to the late 17th century. The first wines were made on the farm in 1699. Today, it produces a full menu of varieties including Sauvignon Blanc, Chenin Blanc, Riesling and Viognier, along with big reds like Mourvedre, Pinotage, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and their signature Shiraz. The farm is also one of South Africa’s largest producers of artisanal goat cheeses, all produced from Fairview’s herd of Saanen dairy goats. The tasting fee allows you to taste six different wines, pairing them with a wide array of cheeses. (Notable – White Rock with Apricots, a white-veined blue cheese infused with the sweet fruit. Delicious.)

But the best way to sell wine, to my mind, is to let your customers get a little dirty. We signed on for Waterford Estate’s wine safari, beginning with a tour of the winemaking facility and barrel room, and a taste of the estate’s sparkling wine.

Then we jumped into a Land Rover for a spin through rocky, arid vineyards surrounded by olive trees and craggy sandstone cliffs. Waterford is located in the Blau Klippen Valley. The name means blue stones, and the vineyard’s red clay is speckled with namesake pebbles. 

We stopped near a pond at the base of the Olives Vineyard to kick around the rocks while tasting a delicious Blanc de Noir, blended from Sangiovese, Mourvedre, Grenache and Barbera. Next up was a 2009 Sauvignon Blanc, followed by a toasty, cinnamony Chardonnay that had been aged six months in French oak.

Back in the Land Rover, we moved across the farm to a higher elevation planted to red varieties. Kevin Arnold, Waterford’s winemaker and part owner, crafts smoothly nuanced, velvety reds, big with flavors of spice and plum (2008 Kevin Arnold Shiraz), vanilla-tinged red fruits (2008 Cabernet Sauvignon), and rich tobacco (2007 The Jem, Waterford’s signature blend of 60% Cabernet Sauvignon, 15% Shiraz, 5% Mourvedre, 7.5% Malbec and Cabernet Franc, and 2.5% Barbera and Sangiovese).

This was our last stop of the day, and by this time we’d not only pushed our driver deep into overtime, but had begun to focus more on conversation with our wine guides, and the stunning scenery, than on the wines themselves. That’s ok. I’m not a wine critic, just a happy traveler enjoying new views, and I believe that your first spin through a new wine territory should encompass all it has to offer – scenery, people, foods, as well as the wines. I have no way of knowing if the wines we tasted represent the best of Stellenbosch and Paarl, but I'm pretty sure they don't.  I do know that we enjoyed them.  South African wines are worth exploring again. I’ll be looking for them here at home, where I can consider them in a neutral setting. But I’ll be picturing their point of origin at the Cape of Good Hope.

Verjus!

I have a French friend who loves to point out English words that are actually French. Giraffe, par exemple. Garage. Restaurant. Weekend. Oh, wait! That’s an English phrase, but it means the same thing in French. Mon erreur.

And of course, veraison. In English, it rhymes with raisin. In French it rhymes with something else, but I’m not sure how to pronounce it. Segolene has been trying to teach me French for about six years now, but it doesn’t seem to be sticking. C’est la vie.

Sorry. I’m kind of beating this to death, aren’t I?

But back to veraison. It’s the point in a grape vine’s growing season when the little green berries stop growing bigger and the vine throws all its energy into ripening the grapes instead.

Acids transform into sugars.

Color deepens.

Flavor abounds.

It also marks the time when vintners thin their grapes. This is one of the fascinating things about growing wine grapes.  Unlike any other crop in the known world, quantity is not necessarily a good thing. At veraison, grape growers walk up and down the rows of their vineyards plucking off clusters of grapes and throwing them on the ground. Seriously. Can you imagine an Iowa corn farmer tossing half the crop in the dirt? Or an orchardist inviting birds in for an early snack on the cherries, just so we won’t have quite so many on the tree?

Wine growers do it all the time. Growing the perfect wine grape is a careful dance between the sun, the water and the soil’s nutrients. Too much of one can throw the balance way out of proportion. A grape vine can only produce so much nutrition. The idea is to find the sweet spot where the grapes deepen their flavors and sugars to an exquisite intensity. Too many grapes on the vine results in thin and boring flavors, so growers thin the crop just when the vine transitions from growing the grapes to ripening them. It’s been going on for centuries. In fact, they still celebrate veraison at Chateneuf du Pape with a wild and crazy medieval festival. Check it out:

Did you watch until the end? Did you see the crazy jester? Are you glad you did?

But back to veraison. Despite the practice of thinning the vines, growers make their living on how many grapes they sell. Throwing tons of them on the ground just has to hurt. Fortunately, there’s a remedy – verjus!

(Bless me. Thank you.)

But verjus (pronounced vair-zhoo) is nothing to sneeze at. (Sorry. Sometimes the puns just spill out all by themselves.) It’s the juice of those unripened grapes, and it makes a wonderful alternative to anything acidic you might use in sauces or dressings – vinegar, lemon juice, even wine.

Verjus has been produced in the Old World for centuries. Here in the New World, it’s not quite so well established.  David and Patricia Gelles, owners of the famed Klipsun Vineyard on Red Mountain here in Washington, discovered it years ago while on a tour of Australia when they met chef  and cookbook author Maggie Beer, who made prolific use of verjus. They have seen many seasons of varaison-thinned grapes rotting on the ground, and David was intrigued by the possibility of making something worthwhile of them.

Today Klipsun Verjus is marketed at select retailers and wineries across the Northwest, but you can order it directly from Alexander the Grape, a venture between David Gelles and his son Alexander, with the stated goal of “conquering the world of grapes.” (Puns abound, and it’s not all my fault.) It sells for $20 a bottle, which makes it a somewhat pricey alternative to specialty vinegars, but it is definitely worth adding to your kitchen arsenal. Because it originates as a wine grape, the acids complement rather than clash with wines served with food. Alexander’s web site abounds with recipes (stewed fruits, cheese cake, risotto) where verjus fills in as an alternative to lemon juice or vinegar.

But you don’t have to get too complicated to experience this lovely liquid. Try sautéing a pan of chicken breasts in butter and olive oil, then deglazing with verjus, finished with a little sage or thyme and a healthy portion of capers. Marinate chicken breasts in olive oil, verjus and rosemary, then grill. Splash a little directly onto a salad of spring greens, sliced strawberries and candied walnuts. Mix it up with a little mayonnaise, basil, oregano, thyme and garlic for a delicious aioli, perfect as a sandwich spread or a dip for fresh vegetables. Try it anyway you can think of. 

Enjoy your verjus.

Bless you.